Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Greatest Is 70



When I was growing up, Muhammad Ali — who was born in Louisville, Ky., 70 years ago today — was an inspiring figure.

In the eyes of many, he was a braggart, a smart aleck, the embodiment of the antiwar movement — even though, to my knowledge, he never participated in an antiwar march or protest after being stripped of his heavyweight title for refusing military induction during the Vietnam War.

It is appropriate, I suppose, that this milestone birthday comes one day after the national observance of Martin Luther King's birthday. Ali's stand, it was said, persuaded King, who had been hesitant to speak out against the war, to reverse his policy.

He took his share of scorn from those who supported the war, though, and, as I wrote last year on the 40th anniversary of Ali's first fight with Joe Frazier, the war was the reason most of those people rooted against Ali when he was in the ring.

They said he was arrogant, and they called him names like "the Louisville Lip" — an anti–Ali spin on his own declaration that he was "the Greatest" — but I always felt it was mostly a case of transference. The war was the real reason for their opposition.

Maybe they really did dislike Ali — he could be abrasive at times — but the war was their excuse.

I don't know if Ali was the greatest of all time, as he claimed. Perhaps the very suggestion was offensive to those who remembered Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano.

But I felt then — and I still feel today — that he was the best in my lifetime. Admittedly, some of that may have been due to my youth and susceptibility. But not everyone who saw him fight was as young as I was — and even many of those who disagreed with his politics acknowledged, however grudgingly, how talented he was.

His talent was never an issue for me. When Ali said he was "the Greatest," I never thought he was boasting. I thought he was stating a fact.

And today he is 70. And, strangely, I am the one who feels older.

Happy birthday, champ.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Winning the Big One ... Finally



As they began the 1971 season, the Dallas Cowboys had been known as the team that couldn't win it all for a long time.

Well, it was a long time by Texas standards.

The Cowboys had actually been in existence for a little more than a decade when they finally won the conference title in January 1971 and went on to play in their first Super Bowl ever. As expansion teams go, that's a pretty rapid ascension, but they lost that Super Bowl to the Baltimore Colts on a last–second field goal — and, once again, fell short of Texas–sized expectations.

That did not happen on this date in 1972.

I don't know how — or, for that matter, precisely when — it started, but sometime in the late 1960s the Dallas defense acquired the nickname "Doomsday."

The Cowboys of those days always seemed to have talented players on offense, but the defense was the team's foundation.

And it was frequently the failure of the offense that kept the team from advancing to the next level.

In January 1972, though, Roger Staubach had been the starting quarterback most of the year and enjoyed what may have been his best season as a pro. With Staubach in charge on the field, the offense finally matched the defense, and the rest of the league was powerless to do anything about it.

Certainly, Miami appeared powerless on this day 40 years ago.

Most Super Bowl teams have scored at least one touchdown, but, on that day, Miami did not. Even the few teams that failed to score a touchdown got more points than the Dolphins did — and, unless a future Super Bowl participant is held to a safety or shut out completely, Miami's standard for scoring futility is going to remain on the record books.

Doomsday held Miami to a single Garo Yepremian field goal in the first half, essentially smothering the Dolphins' key offensive weapons — receiver Paul Warfield and running backs Larry Csonka and Jim Kiick.

When the Cowboys had the ball, Staubach completed nearly two–thirds of his passes, two of which went for touchdowns as Dallas prevailed, 24–3. Staubach was named the game's MVP and was jubilant, recalling on the 25th anniversary of that triumph that "I don't think I ever felt any better as an athlete than ... I felt after that game."

And why shouldn't he? Staubach and his teammates shook a monkey the size of King Kong from their backs that day.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

The First Super Bowl



Super Bowl Sunday is firmly established as perhaps the biggest social event of any year.

It's so well established, in fact, that it is almost certainly difficult for most people to imagine a time when there was no Super Bowl. But there was.

The first Super Bowl was played 45 years ago today. It wasn't called the Super Bowl at the time. It was generally known as the AFL–NFL World Championship Game; some media reports called it the Supergame. Later on, Kansas City Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt came up with the name it is known by today — Super Bowl.

But that's another story.

What it was, actually, was the Establishment vs. the Upstarts. The Establishment was the NFL, appropriately represented by the Green Bay Packers — who, incidentally, will be hosting the New York Giants in the playoffs later today. The Upstarts, the AFL teams, had only existed for a few years, but, like a presidential challenger who is given an opportunity to stand on a level playing field as the president's equal in a debate, they were eager to make the most of it.

Unfortunately for the AFL's representatives, the Chiefs, things never really went their way. That didn't surprise most people. The Packers came into the game as 14–point favorites and exceeded expectations with a 25–point margin of victory.

I guess it goes without saying that a lot of things have changed in 45 years. That's probably a classic understatement applicable to any time, any year in recorded history, and it's certainly true of the Super Bowl.

The game that was played 45 years ago today really bore little resemblance to the spectacle that the Super Bowl has become. The difference in the name is probably the least of the changes.

In fact, if a football fan could be magically transported back to January 1967, that fan would be in for quite a case of culture shock.

Oh, to be sure, it would look like the same game in many ways — same field dimensions, same rules (mostly), same uniforms (although their designs as well as their construction certainly have changed).

The first thing a modern fan probably would notice would be an absence of hype surrounding that first Super Bowl. It was really more of a curiosity. I mean, everyone just knew that the NFL's team would beat the AFL's team. The superiority of the NFL was obvious. Nearly all of the best college football players went on to play for NFL teams.

At that time, I think the only truly high–profile college player who had signed with an AFL team was Joe Namath — and Namath did go on to win an early Super Bowl, legitimizing the league in the eyes of many. But that was still in the future on this day in 1967.

Super Bowl I was unique in other ways.
  • It is the only Super Bowl to be broadcast on two TV networks, NBC and CBS. NBC had the rights to AFL games; CBS had the rights to NFL games.

    Subsequent Super Bowl broadcast rights have been granted to only one network each year, although the network has varied depending upon the arrangement. Forty–five years ago, it was decided that the best solution was to permit both networks to carry the game.

  • Very little video footage from that first Super Bowl survives to this day, even though two networks carried it.

    There was a broadcasting procedure at the time called wiping, in which videotape of a previous program was taped over. Usually — but not always — this was done with tapes of programs that weren't expected to have much value in the future.

    It is, perhaps, indicative of just how low expectations for the game were that both networks chose to recycle their videotapes instead of preserving them.

  • Considering how difficult it is to acquire tickets to a Super Bowl today, it certainly would surprise some modern fans to know that the very first Super Bowl was not a sellout.

    It was still possible on game day to walk up to the Los Angeles Coliseum, where the game was played, and pay $12 for admission to the game. Those were the days, huh?

Friday, January 13, 2012

Confessions of a Packer Fan



I try not to mention it too often on this blog, but I am a Green Bay Packers fan.

I have been a Cheesehead since I was a child — when I lived in central Arkansas, the only TV my family had was a rather small black–and–white number that my grandparents gave us and a guy named Lombardi was on the Green Bay sideline.

Through most of my life, a statement like "I am a Green Bay Packers fan" was kind of like one of those confessions people make at 12–step meetings. But not really. I mean, such meetings usually are about some kind of addiction over which a person is powerless, like an addiction to alcohol or tobacco. Other times, they are about an addiction to some other kind of destructive behavior, like kleptomania.

In the early years of my life, being a Packer fan was rarely about gratification — although I guess a case could be made for the cumulative destructive impact on one's psyche and self–esteem from all those losing seasons.

("My name is David, and I'm a Packerholic ...")

For awhile, I wore it as a badge of honor. When I was about 12 or 13, I had a Packers jacket — designed like those letterman jackets that jocks have been wearing since the dawn of time — that I wore almost defiantly everywhere I went.

It was a small club. I had a few friends who liked the Packers, too, and most of my friends wore similar NFL jackets, but the logos on their jackets were for the winners. I tended to see most of my peers as either fair–weather fans who followed whichever team was winning (they were the ones who liked Don Shula's Dolphins or Chuck Noll's Steelers) or were susceptible to regional influences (mostly Cowboys fans).

I considered myself special because my allegiance was not based on either factor.

Green Bay must be several hundred miles from my hometown, and the Packers rarely had winning seasons when I was growing up. It's hard to make a convincing case that someone jumped on a team's bandwagon when the team in question routinely loses at least two–thirds of its games — unless the fan is a glutton for punishment, which I am not.

(At least, I don't think I am.)

But, as I got older, I started to think that being a Packer fan was something shameful so I stopped sharing it with new acquaintances, and I became selective about the old friends with whom I would discuss it. In that sense, perhaps I was sort of like an alcoholic, indulging in my addiction within a select circle of friends — or (shudder!) when I was by myself.

Most of the time, it was easier just to not say anything when I was with a group of Cowboys fans or fans of the latest powerhouse.

Drinking alone would have been far more satisfying than sitting through the Packers' often lopsided losses. Fortunately, I guess, I rarely saw a Packers game on TV in those days. They weren't winning so there was little interest in them outside their home region.

Occasionally, I might get to see them on a Sunday (if they were playing someone in my region, like the Cowboys or the Chiefs or the Cardinals when they were still in St. Louis) or in a Monday night game. But, most of the time, I was spared the pain of watching them being subjected to a severe beating — which, inevitably, they were.

In spite of it all, I remained loyal to the Packers — through all those 2–, 3– and 4–win seasons. I assured myself that things would turn around eventually. I just didn't know if I would live to see it.

But I did.

I guess all those losing seasons really conditioned me because, even after the Packers turned things around, I still kept expecting them to revert to their old ways. In my formative years — after Lombardi left Green Bay — success was fleeting. Winning seasons didn't come in bunches.

I must admit, I was often envious of the people I knew whose favorite teams were always in the playoffs. For me, if my favorite team was in the playoffs, that alone was cause for celebration. Who knew when it might happen again?

Because of that mindset, it's kind of like an out–of–body experience — or maybe an alternate reality experience — to read Richard Rothschild's suggestion in Sports Illustrated that today's Packers might be better than Lombardi's teams of the 1960s.

Well, actually, Rothschild didn't suggest it — members of the 1961 team that won the first of five NFL championships in seven years suggested it — but Rothschild made a good statistical case supporting it.

God help me, I think I'm starting to believe it.

In my experience, things started to turn around in the 1990s, when Brett Favre came to Green Bay and started leading the Packers to the playoffs on a regular basis. Before he left Green Bay, Favre set all kinds of records and took the Packers to two consecutive Super Bowls, matching Bart Starr's achievement in my childhood, but he couldn't win both.

But even with all his success, even with three consecutive MVPs in the 1990s, Favre didn't take the Packers to the dizzying heights that were reached in the 1960s. Starr is still the only quarterback to lead the Packers to two straight Super Bowl victories.

But Aaron Rodgers, Favre's successor, has the opportunity to match Starr in that category if he wins this year's Super Bowl, and the Packers appear to be talented enough to turn this decade into a repeat of the decade of Starr and Lombardi.

But who should be standing in their way this weekend but the New York Giants ... the very team that came to Lambeau Field four years ago and beat Favre in his final game in a Packer uniform, the NFC Championship game that most observers thought would propel him to his third Super Bowl.

That would have been a first for a Packer signal caller. Instead, it was the end of an era, and I am sure I wasn't the only Packer fan who worried that the team might slip back into mediocrity.

The Packers did slump to that all–too–familiar sub–.500 territory in Rodgers' first season as Green Bay's starting quarterback, but he had them back in the playoffs the next year. And he won the Super Bowl the year after that.

The NFC Championship is not on the line this weekend. It won't be the first time these teams have played each other since that game in January 2008. They've met twice, both times in Green Bay, and the Packers have won both.

But those were regular–season games. There's an appealing symmetry to the idea that Rodgers — who launched a 19–game winning streak with a lopsided victory over the Giants in December 2010 — can avenge that playoff loss Sunday.

Wanna talk symmetry? The Giants were the first team the Packers of the 1960s beat in an NFL championship game back in December 1961. On Sunday afternoon, they will be back at Lambeau Field.

In spite of myself, I'm starting to think pro football history might be about to repeat itself.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The Value of a Single Catch



I have often wondered how different professional football would have been if the San Francisco 49ers had not won the NFC championship on this day 30 years ago.

I've been following sports since I was a child, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is that there really is such a thing as destiny — at least when it comes to sports teams.

Some franchises never overcome their initial reputations as losers, and some allow those reputations to continue to hinder their progress long after they have risen above those reputations.

Sometimes franchises that have been struggling surge to the top from nowhere, get close to grabbing the brass ring but come up short and then fall back into relative obscurity — after which you might hear from them again in another 10 or 15 years.

But sometimes those franchises that surge to the top break on through to the other side and win it all — and a dynasty is born.

I believe that's what happened with the San Francisco 49ers 30 years ago today.

The 49ers weren't strangers to the playoffs, but they hadn't been participants in the postseason for nearly a decade.

Shoot, it had been five years since they had had a winning season.

In their memorable showdown with the Dallas Cowboys on that Sunday afternoon, the 49ers introduced the West Coast Offense to football fans, many of whom were seeing it for the first time. If it had failed, Joe Montana might never have enjoyed the career that he did — and the West Coast Offense might not have risen to the prominence it did.

At least, at that time.

It's safe to assume that, if Dallas had won the game, something else would have been the popular offense — and some other quarterback would have emerged as the NFL's top signal–caller — of the 1980s.

Failure on this day would have meant that the Cowboys would return to the Super Bowl for the fourth time in seven years. Success for the 49ers, however, brought the energy and excitement of a new team in the Super Bowl — and that is what the 49ers were in January 1982, first–timers in the Super Bowl (as were their opponents, the Cincinnati Bengals).

But it might never have happened if Montana hadn't completed a six–yard pass to Dwight Clark in the end zone, an iconic moment that was captured in photographs that appeared in newspapers across the country the next day.

It isn't hard for me to imagine Bill Walsh and his coaching staff abandoning the West Coast Offense if it failed to produce a conference championship on this day in 1982.

Walsh was kind of like football's version of Franklin D. Roosevelt. From the moment he became the 49ers' coach, his mission was to revive a foundering franchise, just as it was Roosevelt's mission to revive the nation. FDR's presidency in the 1930s was very experimental; if something didn't have the desired effect, it would be scrapped and something else would replace it.

If the 49ers had failed to win the NFC championship on this day 30 years ago, Walsh and his staff certainly would have re–evaluated their roster — and they might well have concluded that their personnel was better suited for a different strategy.

That doesn't mean that the West Coast Offense would have died three decades ago today, never to be seen on an NFL field again.

No, I'm sure someone would have resurrected it — and probably thrived with it — if it had gone unused for years following a 49ers defeat 30 years ago today because defensive coordinators would have spent little, if any, time planning for it.

But Montana completed that pass to Clark — and the 49ers went on to win four of the next nine Super Bowls.

And the West Coast Offense set the pace in professional football for the next two decades.

A Really Cold War



On this day in 1982, there were lots of stories vying for the attention of the editors of metro newspapers.

Jan. 10, 1982, was a Sunday. And, historically, Sundays are pretty slow news days.

There are exceptions to that rule, of course. The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on a Sunday. Gerald Ford pardoned Richard Nixon on a Sunday. As far as news is concerned, Sunday is just another day in the week.

And that Sunday 30 years ago was a spectacular exception to the rule.

Sports desks were busy — as they had known they would be — with the AFC and NFC championship games that were to be played that day. I worked on sports desks for several years, and I can easily imagine the anticipation in newsrooms across the country.

But the news desks were busy with a developing story that would seize the nation's attention — a fierce cold front that set records in many cities across the country. Hundreds of those records would be shattered within the week by an even more brutal cold front, leaving in its wake record low temperatures that still stand today.

In pro football lore, the 1967 NFL Championship game played in Green Bay has long been remembered as the "Ice Bowl" — and deservedly so. The air temperature was –15°. The wind chill was –48°. No other postseason game has ever been played in conditions as cold as that.

But the game played in Cincinnati three decades ago today came close. The air temperature that day was –9°, and the wind chill was –37°.

I wasn't in Cincinnati that day. I was in Fayetteville, Ark., where I was in college at the time. Fayetteville was well acquainted with cold winters. It always had snow during the winter months. The snow didn't always remain for days or weeks, but sometimes one snowfall would still be on the ground when the next one came along.

That winter, snowfall after snowfall fell and stayed for weeks because it was so cold — and on that day, it might have approached 30° briefly at some point, but my memory is that the temperature was mostly in the teens if not single digits. And it was windy — not fiercely so but windy enough to make it feel colder than it actually was.

I spent nearly all that day indoors next to the fireplace watching the football games — with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a blanket over my feet.

Of the second game that was played that day — the now–legendary Dallas–San Francisco game — I will have more to say in my next post later today. It was a very exciting game with plenty of big plays and momentum shifts.

The Cincinnati–San Diego game wasn't really that way. Maybe it was the extreme cold. Mind you, it was cool in San Francisco that afternoon, cooler than it normally is, I suppose. But it was cold in Cincinnati, and that made it memorable.

If it had come down to the final seconds, the way it did in Green Bay 15 years earlier, I guess that would be what people remember about that game.

But it wasn't close. The Bengals had things under control early. They forced four turnovers and won by 20 points.

Cincinnati's coach that day was Forrest Gregg, the right tackle for Green Bay in the "Ice Bowl," but, reportedly, he could not recall a game that was played in colder conditions than the one played in Cincinnati 30 years ago today.

Perhaps moving around on the field helped him feel warmer in Green Bay.

I remember feeling sorry for the fans I saw shivering in the stands in Cincinnati. I feel the same way whenever I see footage from the "Ice Bowl." I suppose it was a good thing — in both instances — that the home team won. That way, most of the fans had plenty to cheer for and jump up and down about (thus generating a little warmth).

The fans in Cincinnati didn't have a lot to be happy about two weeks later when their Bengals lost the Super Bowl.

But, because it was so cold 30 years ago today — coldest ever in the AFL/AFC — the game with the Chargers achieved a memorable status all its own.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Seizing the Moment



The Rose Bowl in Pasadena has been the scene of many memorable college football games over the years, but no professional football games were played there until this date 35 years ago.

Only five professional football games have been played in the Rose Bowl — and all were Super Bowls. The NFL has a policy against holding a Super Bowl in a city that does not have an NFL franchise, but that does not mean Super Bowls can only be played in stadiums that are the full–time homes of active teams.

The Rams and, for a time, the Raiders played in other stadiums when they were based in Los Angeles, but, by the mid–1990s, the Raiders had returned to Oakland and the Rams had moved to St. Louis.

Thus, Los Angeles no longer has an NFL franchise — which is why no Super Bowls have been played there since 1993 — but it was the most popular Super Bowl destination for more than 15 years, starting with the game that was played on this day in 1977.

That was one of the things that made Super Bowl XI noteworthy before it was played — the fact that it was being played in the Rose Bowl where so many great college football games had been played in the past, but, up to that time, no professional games had been played there.

Another thing that made it noteworthy was the knowledge that championship futility was going to end for one of the two entrants. The Oakland Raiders and the Minnesota Vikings had both been to the Super Bowl before and come away empty handed. They had made the playoffs on other occasions as well and missed the Super Bowl entirely.

When I was a child, the Dallas Cowboys were known as the team that couldn't win the Big One. But the Cowboys shook that monkey from their backs, winning it all in January 1972 and returning as the Super Bowl's first wild–card entry a year before the Raiders and Vikings met on this day.

By the mid–1970s, a handful of NFL squads had emerged as the latest teams that couldn't win the Big One. The Raiders and Vikings were clearly in that group when the 1976 season began, and they surged to their division titles as if they were men on missions.

They both won rematches of early regular–season contests in their respective league championship games, advancing to meet in the Super Bowl in Pasadena, and each was impressive in its own way.

The Vikings overwhelmed the Rams, who fought to a 10–10 tie with Minnesota in the second week of the season, and the Raiders beat the two–time defending Super Bowl champion Pittsburgh Steelers, 35–20. The Raiders beat the Steelers by a field goal in the season opener.

The first quarter was a testament to the desire on both sides as neither team managed to score.

Defense played a prominent role in that game. I guess you wouldn't think that if all you knew about the game was the final score (Oakland 32, Minnesota 14), but it is really true.

Minnesota entered the game with the NFL's second–best defense even though many Viking starters were thought to be nearing the ends of their careers (as, in fact, many were), but if either defense was in the spotlight prior to the game, it was Oakland's. The Raiders were ranked 12th in defense, but they had often been criticized in the mid–1970s for being too aggressive.

Undoubtedly, the Raiders' defensive backs were a hard–hitting bunch, especially George Atkinson. After breaking Russ Francis' nose in the first round of the AFC playoffs and then giving Lynn Swann a concussion in the AFC championship game, Atkinson was truly the center of attention.

But it was teammate Jack Tatum — also known as "The Assassin" — who delivered what is rightly regarded as the hardest blow in Super Bowl XI, if not in the history of the Super Bowl.

Minnesota quarterback Fran Tarkenton found Offensive Player of the Year Sammy White on a crossing pattern. The pass didn't hit him in the numbers, but it required no special effort to catch, either, and White caught it in stride. Tatum seemed to come from nowhere and knocked off White's helmet with a teeth–rattling hit. Incredibly, White held on to the ball.

Such concentration should have been rewarded, but, of the Vikings' four (so far) Super Bowl losses, the margin in the game they lost 35 years ago today was the widest.

White's heroic effort was for naught, and none of his successors in purple have had the opportunity to make up for it.

In the 35 years since that day, the Raiders have been back to the Super Bowl on several occasions. The Vikings have never returned.

Sometimes I wonder if they ever will.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

The Swan Song for Two Legends



When I was a boy in Arkansas, as I have written here before, I was a fan of the Arkansas Razorbacks — like nearly everyone else.

Many of my earliest memories are of Saturday afternoons at my friends' houses — where, more often than not, the Razorback play–by–play could be heard on the radio in the kitchen or the living room.

I'm still a Razorback fan, but many things are different for me now. Yet, sometimes, when the breeze blows just so or I catch the scent of honeysuckle in the evening air or I feel a slight chill after an autumn rain shower, my memory bank conjures up, however briefly, a snippet from my childhood.

Most of the time, I don't remember the game or the circumstances — or the names of people whose faces I can see in my mind's eye for a second or two.

I only know that it is a link to a time that was early in my life, when things seemed more reliable, more stable.

Maybe that was one of the things that I always liked about the Razorbacks. They were reassuringly constant. They almost always had competitive teams, and I always got excited when Arkansas and Texas were about to play.

I guess you could say there were three things that I felt I could count on in those days:
  • Frank Broyles was the coach of the Razorbacks. There had never been any other head coach at Arkansas in my lifetime.

  • Darrell Royal was the coach of the Longhorns. There had never been any other head coach at Texas in my lifetime.

  • The Arkansas–Texas football game was always televised. (That wasn't as routine as it might seem to 21st century football fans, who are used to the idea that most of their favorite team's games will be televised. There was no cable in those days, and there were restrictions on the number of regular–season TV appearances a team could have.)
Probably the most memorable of the Arkansas–Texas games in my childhood was the one played in December 1969. It is remembered as the "Great Shootout," and it was so big it brought the president of the United States to tiny Fayetteville, Ark.

I may be wrong, but I believe that, until native Arkansan Bill Clinton came to dedicate a statue on the UA campus, it was the only time a sitting president ever came to Fayetteville.

That game, I must say, was not an example of stability — and not only because it drew higher–profile attendees than usual.

Ordinarily, Arkansas and Texas met in mid–October — but, because everyone figured they were the two best teams in the country, they were persuaded to move their 1969 game to the first week in December, when no other games would be played (this was a couple of decades before conferences started holding championship games), and the attention of the nation would be on that game alone.

And, in fact, the gamble paid off. It turned out that Texas was ranked #1 in the nation and Arkansas was ranked #2 when they met in Fayetteville on that December day. The winner would go to the Cotton Bowl to play Notre Dame for the national title, but the president was on hand to prematurely proclaim the winner the national champion.

When the game was over, I remember watching President Nixon gush about the Longhorns as he presented them with a national championship plaque that he said would be engraved with the winning school's name — and I noted bitterly that he hadn't said anything about the Razorbacks, who had shut out the Longhorns for the first three quarters.

If Texas was the best team in the nation, I reasoned, Arkansas was nearly as good. The Longhorns beat the Razorbacks by a single point that day.

I didn't dream that, nearly seven years later to the day, in another Arkansas–Texas game that had been moved to December, Broyles and Royal would leave the sidelines together for the last time.

I'm not sure if I ever knew the reasons why Arkansas and Texas agreed to move their 1976 game to early December. They had shared the Southwest Conference championship with Texas A&M the year before, and perhaps the ABC executives were gambling that, as in 1969, the two would be the best teams in the conference — if not the nation.

If that was the gamble, though, it came up way short of expectations. Arkansas and Texas tumbled out of contention early that season. Newcomer Houston won the conference title and went to the Cotton Bowl. Neither Arkansas nor Texas played in a bowl game that season so 35 years ago last weekend, the coaching careers of Broyles and Royal came to an end.

I don't know when or why those two men decided to retire from coaching. It just always seemed right that they did so at the same time. I couldn't imagine watching another Arkansas–Texas game and seeing one but not both on the sidelines.

Both continued to influence athletics as the athletic directors at the schools where they had built their coaching reputations.

And Broyles, at least, continued to wield the kind of power that successful football coaches in small states tend to wield. During his coaching days — and afterward, as athletic director — Broyles was, arguably, the most influential individual in Arkansas — more powerful than governors or senators, more revered than ministers (and, in devoutly religious Arkansas, that truly is saying something).

Broyles retired a few years ago. He's still living — he'll be 87 the day after Christmas — and, while he may still be an influential figure within Arkansas, outside the state one hears little about him anymore.

Royal marked his 87th birthday last summer. One hears even less of him. After he stopped coaching, he continued, as Broyles did, to serve as the school's athletic director, but only for a few years. Texas re–named its football stadium in his honor, and you hear his name mentioned whenever the Longhorns play in big games, but he has mostly remained out of the spotlight for the last three decades.

He now serves as a special assistant to the UT president — which sounds a lot like professor emeritus. If that is, indeed, what it is, he earned the honor, winning nearly three–quarters of the college games in which he coached.

Likewise, Broyles enjoyed a successful coaching career. He won more than two–thirds of his games, and he remains the only Arkansas football coach to win 100 or more games.

Current coach Bobby Petrino would have to win every regular season game, every conference championship game and every postseason bowl game from now until the end of this decade to match Broyles — and, since Broyles' 1964 team was the last Arkansas team to go through an entire season without losing, it seems likely that Petrino would have to remain at Arkansas well beyond 2019.

Even at his present pace (10 wins in each of the last two seasons), it would take Petrino until the year 2023.

Of course, if he manages to do that, he is sure to replace Broyles as the most powerful man in Arkansas — by which time, Broyles is likely to be deceased or far too old to care. In the immediate future, though, Broyles' status is secure.

Royal is also the winningest coach in Texas history, but the current coach, 60–year–old Mack Brown, needs only 35 wins to pass him.

In 2005, Brown became the second Texas coach to win a national championship. Royal was the first, and he went on to win three of them. Brown needs two more to match him.

No matter how you slice it, Broyles and Royal are living legends, and, for many long–time fans of both schools, their legacies are intertwined, like the epic boxing duels between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier or the tennis matches between Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova or the Triple Crown races between Affirmed and Alydar.

It was fitting that they ended their coaching careers together.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

History's Spotlight



Perhaps it is fitting that this year's Heisman Trophy race is expected, by many observers, to be one of the closest ever.

Whoever the winner turns out to be, it's likely to be fodder for one of those "what–if" debates.

I suppose that is the most intriguing thing about the study of history — the wide variety of the "what if" questions.

You can find them taking many shapes in every human endeavor — politics, religion, sports, the arts, everything.

Most of the time, they are along the lines of the road not taken — sort of like the Burt Lancaster character in "Field of Dreams." But sometimes there are the tragic tales of those who did not live long enough to realize their full potential.

Today is the 50th anniversary of such a milestone in one such life story.

On this day in 1961, Ernie Davis was the first black man to be awarded the Heisman.

That isn't a "what–if" — unless you're thinking of the guys who were on the ballot with Davis.

It was the second–closest vote in Heisman history, with Davis beating the runnerup, Ohio State fullback Bob Ferguson, by only 53 votes.

Texas' Jimmy Saxton, Minnesota's Sandy Stephens and Alabama's Pat Trammell rounded out the top five.

It capped what must have been one of the greatest football careers of all time. In 1959, as a sophomore, Davis led Syracuse to a national championship and was named MVP of the Cotton Bowl. In 1961, as a senior, he was MVP of the Liberty Bowl, and everyone thought his career would continue into the NFL.

Davis seemed to be a great natural talent for whom the NFL was the next logical step. If the Super Bowl had existed at the time, speculation probably would have centered on when, not if, he would play in it — and how many times he would return.

In 1962, he was drafted by the Washington Redskins, who quickly dealt him to the Cleveland Browns. The Redskins were owned by George Preston Marshall, who was known to be racist.

The Redskins were the last NFL franchise to resist signing black players, which Marshall defended as being based on sound business strategy. He said he wanted to maintain good relations with the Southern market.

In Cleveland, Davis was expected to be paired with Jim Brown to form what may well have been the most potent running game in NFL history.

But no one will ever know how great that backfield could have been. In the summer of 1962, Davis was diagnosed with leukemia, and he died the following year at the age of 23. He never played a down in the NFL.

Brown was Syracuse's star halfback before Davis came along; in fact, Brown helped recruit Davis, who went on to break all of Brown's school records.

And Cleveland was reasonably successful even without Davis in the early to mid–1960s — until Brown retired. More than 40 years later, Brown was recognized as the greatest pro football player of all time by The Sporting News.

But other teams, most notably the Packers, climbed the mountain ahead of the Browns.

Davis played at a time when freshmen were not allowed to play varsity ball. In the three years that he could play varsity ball, he was named first–team All–America twice.

How much greater could the Browns have been with Davis in the backfield?

It may not be one of history's greatest "what–if" questions, but it's got to be near the top of the list for sports.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Hoping for Turmoil at the Top



Well, conference championship weekend is upon us.

And, being as anti–BCS as I am, I'm still hoping for some upsets that can spark a real debate over who deserves to play for the national title and who doesn't.

Right now, it appears that LSU is the clear choice for one of the slots — but what if LSU loses to Georgia this weekend?

Should Alabama be allowed to play for the national title whether LSU is there or not? Alabama won't play for its conference championship, and 'Bama's coach said, several years ago, that no team that did not play for its conference championship should be allowed to play for a national title.

What if some of the other highly ranked teams should falter this weekend? What if #3 Oklahoma State loses to Oklahoma? What if #5 Virginia Tech loses to Clemson? What if the only remaining unbeaten team is Houston and the only remaining one–loss teams are Boise State, Stanford and Alabama, none of which will play for a conference title this weekend?

That's the kind of thing that can make a playoff system more likely in college football.

And that's what I want.

Idle: #2 Alabama, #4 Stanford, #6 Arkansas, #9 USC, #14 South Carolina, #17 Michigan, #20 Nebraska, #23 Penn State, #25 Florida State

Thursday
  • #22 West Virginia at USF, 7 p.m. (Central) on ESPN: The home team wins this game two–thirds of the time – literally.

    They've played each other six times, three times at each school, and the home teams have won two of the three.

    I'm inclined to think the home team will prevail again. Give me USF — by a point or two.
Friday
  • UCLA at #8 Oregon, 7 p.m. (Central) on FOX: Historically, UCLA has won nearly 61% of its games with Oregon.

    But recent history has favored the Ducks. Although the schools didn't face each other during the regular season this year, Oregon has a three–game winning streak against UCLA, and the Ducks have beaten the Bruins in eight of the 10 games they have played since 2000.

    Even more recently, Oregon beat USC, 38–35, on Nov. 19. The following week, USC blanked UCLA, 50–0.

    If USC wasn't on a suspension from postseason activity, the Trojans would be playing Oregon for the Pac–12 title in a rematch of their Nov. 19 thriller. And that would be a game worth watching.

    But UCLA finished second in that division and took the championship game berth in USC's place.

    I expect Oregon to win by at least four touchdowns. If UCLA keeps the deficit below that, that will be the upset.
Saturday
  • #12 Georgia vs. #1 LSU at Atlanta, 3 p.m. (Central) on CBS: This will be the third time in the last decade that these teams have played for the SEC championship.

    That series is currently tied, 1–1.

    Historically, LSU holds a three–game edge in its series with Georgia, 15–12–1, but in the last 20 years, it is Georgia that holds a three game advantage, 6–3 (including the conference championship games).

    And I think Georgia is capable of giving LSU a pretty good run this time. After all, the Bulldogs' offense is 34th in the country, but it's hard to see how it can be too productive against the second–best defense in the land.

    When LSU has the ball, it is hard to see how its 62nd–ranked offense can be very imposing — and Georgia's fifth–ranked defense seems well prepared for the task of stopping it.

    It's just plain hard to give Georgia the benefit of the doubt on anything.

    LSU has been facing top–notch teams all year, teams that are still ranked as the season draws to a close — Oregon, West Virginia, Alabama, Arkansas — and has beaten all comers.

    Georgia, on the other hand, faced none of those teams. Its two early losses were to teams that were and remain ranked, but it didn't play any of the SEC West's Big Three — LSU, Alabama or Arkansas — during the regular season.

    You can make a convincing argument that Georgia hasn't really been challenged since mid–September. I guess I'm suceptible to that because I'm so anti–BCS and would love to see anything that hastens its demise.

    Georgia is a double–digit underdog in this game, but I'm still going to pick Georgia — albeit hopefully — in a conference championship weekend upset special.

  • #13 Oklahoma at #3 Oklahoma State, 7 p.m. (Central) on ABC: This will be the 100th meeting between these schools, but victories for Oklahoma State have been, to put it mildly, rare.

    Currently, OU owns an eight–game winning streak in the series — which looks impressive to people outside Oklahoma.

    Speaking as someone who lived in Oklahoma for four years, I can tell you that the current winning streak is dwarfed by others in the series. Between 1967 and 1991, Oklahoma beat Oklahoma State in every year but one (1976). From 1946 to 1964, the Sooners won every encounter — 19 in all.

    Most people seem to be picking OSU to win this game, and it isn't hard to see why. The Cowboys are ranked third in the country in offense, and they've been getting a lot of publicity for it — but OU's offense is just as good, ranked fourth in the nation.

    Since there is practically no difference between the two in total offense, the key may be in total defense — and that is really no contest, even though the defenses are not nearly as spectacular as the offenses. Oklahoma's defense is a modest #52 in the country while OSU's doesn't even crack the Top 100.

    I pick Oklahoma.

  • #5 Virginia Tech vs. #21 Clemson at Charlotte, N.C., 7 p.m. (Central) on ESPN: You couldn't tell it from their last five meetings, but this series once belonged to Clemson.

    It's been a sporadic series. They met two or three times a decade — at best — from the turn of the 20th century until the 1980s — and they have only played twice as conference rivals.

    On Saturday, they will play for the ACC title — and it just might be the most entertaining game of the day.

    Clemson hasn't beaten Virginia Tech since 1989 — and I'm not inclined to think that will change.

    Clemson has a narrow edge on offense. The Tigers are 29th in the country while the Hokies are 36th. Tech has a clear edge on defense, ranked 12th while Clemson is 63rd.

    They say defense wins championships so I guess this is Tech's opportunity to prove it. If my other predictions hold up, a win in this game could put Virginia Tech in the national championship game.

    Whether it does or not, though, I'm still picking Virginia Tech by nine points.

  • #24 Southern Miss at #7 Houston, 11 a.m. (Central) on ABC: It's probably a bit of a stretch to see Houston playing in the national championship game — even if the Cougars beat Southern Miss and remain undefeated.

    Chances are that the folks who attend the game — or watch it on TV — will be treated to quite a show. Houston has the nation's top–ranked offense, but Southern Miss' offense is pretty explosive, too. It is ranked 15th in the country.

    Once again, I am reminded of the old adage that defense wins championships because Southern Miss turns the tables on Houston on the defensive side of the ball. Southern Miss has the country's 26th–best defense while Houston's defense is rather pedestrian, ranked 60th in the land.

    The game is for the Conference USA championship — the second time these teams have played for the conference title. Houston won the first time, and I expect Houston, with its potent offense, to win this time, too.

  • New Mexico at #9 Boise State, 5 p.m. (Central) on The Mtn.: There really is no reason to expect much from New Mexico in this game.

    These teams have only played twice before, in 1999 and 2000, and Boise State won both times. This season, Boise State has been much better on both sides of the ball than New Mexico.

    I expect Boise State to absolutely hammer New Mexico.

  • #15 Wisconsin vs. #11 Michigan State at Indianapolis, 7 p.m. (Central) on FOX: Since 2003, the home team has won this game — including the time the two played earlier this season in Lansing, Mich. The Spartans won that game, 37–31.

    This will be the 50th time these teams have played. As the Big Ten title game, it is being played in the neutral site of Indianapolis so home field track records aren't terribly relevant. Wisconsin was the winner the only other time the teams played on a neutral field — in December 1993 when the teams played in the Coca–Cola Classic in Tokyo.

    That offers little insight, though. Certainly, the game played earlier in Michigan provides more — except that the score didn't reflect reality. Both teams have Top 10 defenses. Michigan State's is third in the country, Wisconsin's is seventh.

    Wisconsin's offense is pretty good, too, ranked 12th in the country while MSU's is, by comparison, rather dismal. It is ranked 64th.

    I pick Wisconsin to win the rematch.

  • Iowa State at #16 Kansas State, 11:30 a.m. (Central) on FSN: The history of this series has been that the home team usually wins it.

    But this hasn't been a typical season at Iowa State. It looked like it might be when ISU got off to a 3–4 start with three narrow non–conference wins followed by four straight conference losses. But then — inexplicably — Iowa State got hot and reeled off three straight wins, including a double–overtime thriller against Oklahoma State.

    Now 6–5, the Cyclones appear headed to their seventh bowl since 2000. That's pretty impressive when you consider that Iowa State played in no bowl games from 1979 to 1999.

    Meanwhile, Kansas State is enjoying the kind of recognition it has rarely seen since the dawn of the 21st century. But the 9–2 Wildcats were unable to defeat Oklahoma State when they had their opportunity.

    I got the feeling, as I watched parts of Iowa State's game with Oklahoma last week, that ISU is running out of gas. The numbers say ISU has the better offense and KSU has the better defense.

    Can't win if you don't score, but scoring hasn't been a problem for Iowa State in recent years. Scoring more than K–State, though, has been another matter, and I think ISU will come up just short this time, the way it has tended to do in recent years.

    Kansas State by a touchdown.

  • UNLV at #18 TCU, 1:30 p.m. (Central) on Versus: Unless you are a TCU fan, I can't think of a reason for a college football enthusiast to watch this game.

    UNLV, 1–10, simply doesn't appear capable of beating TCU, 9–2. TCU is light years ahead of UNLV on both offense and defense.

    And there isn't really any hope to be found in the series record. TCU is 8–1 all time against UNLV and enjoys a seven–game winning streak (UNLV's only win came in 1997).

    As TCU departs for the Big 12 next season, the Frogs should be leaving the Mountain West on a winning note. TCU is the clear choice in this one.

  • Texas at #19 Baylor, 2:30 p.m. (Central) on ABC: If you grew up in the old Southwest Conference (as I did) — or even if your memory only includes the Big 12 in the post–SWC era — it is not strange to see these teams play each other.

    They've been playing since 1903, when they first met in the neutral site of San Antonio. Texas won that first encounter, 48–0. In what may have been an indication of the futility of the Bears' efforts in this series, Texas shut out Baylor in their next two meetings as well.

    In fact, the Longhorns either shut out the Bears or held them to less than 10 points in all but one of their first 10 games. Meanwhile, Texas scored at least 11 points (and, often, much more than that) in all but one of those games — the exception was the only one Texas didn't win (a 6–6 tie).

    That has been the history of this series, which will be renewed for the 100th time on Saturday. Baylor usually struggles to score — and win — no matter where they play. The Longhorns have been a little more successful at home than in Waco, where they play this year, but even on the Bears' home field, Texas has won about two–thirds of the time.

    And the Longhorns have won their last six games in Waco. Baylor hasn't beaten Texas there since 1997.

    As I say, it isn't strange for these teams to play each other. Nor is it strange for one of the teams to be ranked. But the ranked team has almost always been Texas, not Baylor.

    The main attraction in this game has to be those times when Baylor has the ball. The Bears' offense, led by Robert Griffin III, and the Longhorns' defense are both in the Top 10.

    Texas has a mediocre offense, but it should be able to handle Baylor's defense, which is one of the worst in the country.

    Frankly, I'd love to see Baylor win. Combined with the Bears' win in Austin last year, that would give Baylor a rare winning streak against Texas. How rare is it? Well, Baylor has had a couple of two–game winning streaks against Texas in my lifetime, one more during my parents' lifetimes and one more during my grandparents' lifetimes.

    The Bears have never won more than two in a row against Texas.

    But I just can't shake the feeling that Baylor will be undone by its defense. I pick Texas to win.
Last week: 15–1

Season: 204–51